0.6-The Asylum Interviews: Trixie (7 page)

Frowning, I stared blindly at the table. I hadn’t thought about the price for this exchange until now. The truth was that I suspected I knew what was in the bottle because I had been forced by my warlock mentor to drink it when I was a child. It wasn’t from a plant related to the foxglove. It was from a plant similar to the foxglove family that was extinct in the wild, but there were a few greenhouses around the world that grew it. And those greenhouses all belonged to the witches and warlocks of the Ivory Towers. How Chang came to possess this I didn’t want to know.

I decided to drop the issue. If I revealed I knew what was in the bottle, then Chang would know without a doubt that I was involved with the Ivory Towers in some way. Not exactly the best way to endear myself to the old man. While I had little doubt that he suspected something of my magical past, neither of us had ever said the words. Maybe we were both pretending to be ignorant.

“Is that the only price you’re going to ask?”

Chang cocked his head to the side for a second, staring at me. “Five dollars for sanguinello.”

“Expensive damn orange.”

“Shipped fresh from Italy,” Chang said with a smile as I pulled out my wallet. I grabbed a five and handed it to him. “One more thing.”

“I thought so,” I muttered, keeping my wallet out.

“Tell no one.” My brow furrowed and Chang laid a thin hand over my wrist, gripping it lightly. “Tell no one what you do, ever. This is dangerous for everyone, human and vampire. Not good. Don’t tell.”

It was a dangerous weapon. While the vampires were frightening and dangerous in their own right, they were also extremely vulnerable during the daylight hours. People knew of enough ways to take them out without needing another weapon that was impossible to detect.

“You’re right. I swear, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

Chang smiled, patting my wrist a couple times before dropping his hand back into his lap. “You’re a good boy. Sneaky, but good.”

I shoved my wallet back into my pocket before putting the sanguinello and bottle in separate pockets of my jacket. I’d pack both items safely away in my shop before continuing on to my next destination. Not far away I heard a soft clicking on the concrete floor. When I looked up, I saw the two dogs approaching Chang. They always seemed to know exactly when a meeting was over and they appeared. Just chalk one more freaky thing up to Chang and his hoard of weird shit.

Patting Chang on the shoulder, I walked past him toward the dogs. “Take it easy, Chang. I’ll catch you later.”

“Have fun with your girlfriend,” Chang called, his amused laughter dancing down the aisle after me. I smiled and shook my head as I followed one dog back to the elevator while the second dog walked behind me.

My visits to Chang were generally few and far between. He was a nice old man, but you always knew better than to fuck with him. He knew shit he shouldn’t. He was older than shit. And you always suspected that he was a little bat-shit crazy. I always enjoyed my trips to see him regardless of the circumstances that drew me to his warehouse, but I was always more than a little relieved to leave. He had a lot of stuff people would kill helpless widows and orphans for and he had world-ending, apocalyptic, “kiss your ass good-bye” stuff. Walking through that place made me feel like I was peeking into a gunpowder barrel while holding a burning torch. I was honored he trusted me to see his collection, but I would rather I didn’t know it existed in the first place.

But if someone had to have it, I was glad it was Chang. He didn’t intend to use it. He just wanted to own it. That was fine with me. I had enough problems, and my next one was getting a meeting with a rooftop warrior.

CHAPTER FIVE

I
n this world, it’s usually pretty hard to get a strange look while in the grocery store, even if it is nearly midnight. You can walk in wearing footie pajamas covered in little yellow ducks and pick up a quart of blood, a container of ram hearts, and crackers, and no one will bat an eye at it. However, if you walk in and pick up more than a dozen boxes of cereal and nothing else, apparently the cashier is going to look at you like you’re the local pedophile throwing a slumber party. I just smiled at the nosy bitch as I paid. To hell with them. I wasn’t about to walk into my next meeting empty-handed.

I had my protection against a painful death from Chester. Now I needed to find where the nest was located. And to do that, I had to see someone who really knew this city, someone who spent his days and nights watching the city and its inhabitants. Unfortunately, they weren’t the friendliest group, hence the bribe/peace-offering of cereal.

Lindner Tower was the tallest building in the city, sitting in the middle of downtown. The skyscraper was finished in the 1950s, and was a mix of silvery steel and cold concrete as it soared above the world. It managed to be foreboding as well as elegant. It had none of the glass sparkle or curving lines the other buildings possessed, but was more of a regal relic from a day almost forgotten in the modern push forward.

Parking was a bit of a pain, as most of the night shift had already started, making the city garages crowded, but I managed to maneuver my way to the top of the tower through with a mix of luck, sweet talk, and a little grease on the palms. I put down my plastic grocery bags filled with family-sized cereal boxes with a sigh and looked around. The large rooftop was empty as far as I could tell. The light along the side of the building illuminated the rooftop some, but there were shadows by the storage building that it couldn’t pierce. I stayed in the center of the rooftop, fighting the shivering that was starting as brisk winds swept up the building and across the roof, ruffling my hair. They weren’t gone, just waiting and watching. I could get them to come out. If I could count on one thing, it was that gargoyles loved cereal.

Bending over, I pulled one colorful box out of the bag and gave it a shake, causing the crunchy frosted bits inside to rattle. “Come on out, guys! I’m alone and I brought breakfast,” I called out. I gave it another shake and waited. There was a scratching of talons on concrete, but no one appeared. Setting the box on the ground, I turned back to my collection of bags to dig out another box. While my head was down, I felt a whoosh of wind beside me and the scrape of cardboard along the ground. I twisted around with another box of cereal in my hand to find that the first box was gone. Someone had swooped in and snagged it.

“Ahh . . . come on! Balen? Pellanor?” I shook the box and then looked down at the front again. “It’s Sergeant Sugar. There’s a prize inside; looks to be a race car that transforms into a robot.” I smiled when I saw a head pop over the far side of the building. I put the box on the ground and backed up a few steps, holding my hands out to my sides. Throwing out massive leathery wings, the gargoyle with the fang-filled smile launched himself over the edge of the building, gliding toward me. Balen snagged the box of cereal and plopped down on the ground. He started to tear the top off with long talons but paused, looking up at me. I took another step backward and bumped into something big and hard.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I twisted around and looked up. Uther was standing behind me, looking like some demonic nightmare, complete with dark gray skin, protruding fangs, and horns curling out of his head.

With a nod, I bent down and pulled out a box of bran flakes with dried strawberries, which I handed up to the big man. “What’s up, Uther? Got your favorite,” I said, trying not to show my fear, but it wasn’t easy. I knew that Uther or any of his clan mates could rip me in half without trying.

The gargoyle accepted the box of cereal with a nod. It must have been what the rest of them were waiting for, because Uther’s clan swarmed the rooftop, falling on the bags of cereal. I had visited the Low Town gargoyle clan several times in the past few years, and had taken the time to learn their favorites. Uther, Mordrain, and Ryons preferred things like bran flakes and wheat that included bits of fruit. Astolat, Deira, Lynsanor, and Enid liked anything with chocolate. I got the impression that Balen, Pellanor, and Evrain were the younger of the group because they ate anything that was sugar frosted, included marshmallows, and had a prize inside. Of course, younger didn’t mean much since as far as I could tell, gargoyles were among the long-lived races, failing to show their age once they reached maturity.

While most of the group dug into my gift, murmuring to each other as they searched for their favorites, Astolat landed beside Uther, wrapping one arm through his while pulling her wings around her shoulders like a cloak. The only difference that I could discern between female and male gargoyles was size. The females were slightly smaller in size, slimmer but no less dangerous. They were all different shades of color with different hair styles, if they had hair at all.

“It’s good to see you again, Astolat, Uther,” I greeted with a bow of my head.

“Thank you for the gifts, Gage,” Astolat replied.

“What do you want?” Uther’s voice was a deep rumble, like the ground shuddering during an earthquake.

I stepped backward, putting some space between Uther and myself. If I had learned anything, it was that the gargoyles were extremely protective of their females. “Why do I have to want something? Can’t I just come to visit my friends?”

There was snort behind me and I turned to see one gargoyle smirking at me as he stuffed one large hand into the box in his lap. “A visit? You always want something when you’re here.”

“Eat your cereal, Evrain,” I grumbled before looking up at Uther. “Okay, so there is something that I could use some help with, but first I want to know what’s up with you guys. You usually aren’t so hesitant to come out when I stop by.”

Uther glared at me, his mouth thinning to a hard, unyielding line. Astolat looked sad as she ran her hand over Uther’s chest in a reassuring manner. “A couple weeks ago, Lysanor and Mordrain were . . . destroyed.”

“What?” I gasped. Jerking around, my eyes swept over the group huddled close together. I hadn’t noticed before that Lysanor and Mordrain were missing, but it wasn’t always easy to see a missing gargoyle or two considering their massive size. The clan stilled at the mention of their fallen comrades, heads down as they seemed to draw closer together. “How?”

“They were destroyed during the day. We found their remains the following night when we awoke,” Uther explained. “We do not know who did this or why it was done.”

“Have you reported the attack?”

Uther shook his head, sending a lock of black hair over his shoulder. “We handle our own problems.”

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I nodded. “I understand, but is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so,” Uther said softly.

I frowned. Gargoyles weren’t a numerous race. After the death of two clan members, there were now only eight gargoyles in Low Town, and this city was lucky to have them. Usually only the biggest cities had gargoyles—the race had nearly been wiped out by the Ivory Towers, like many of the other races, during the Great War.

Uther and his clan mates had helped me on more than one occasion, not to mention the random times that I just sat around on the top of Lindner Tower and bullshitted with Uther, Evrain, and Balen. In truth, I seemed to feel more at ease with those who were not of my own race.

“If . . . if you can agree not to ask too many questions, I can help you. Offer you some daytime protection.” It was a fight to get the words out of my mouth. Uther and his companions might agree not to ask questions, but they would think them, and when it came to humans, the only answers lived in the Ivory Towers. But I trusted Uther. I trusted him not to knife me in the back and not to tell others. From there, you just had to take a risk or two in life.

“Thank you for your offer, but no.”

“Uther, please,” Astolat whispered, pressing close to the gargoyle. Uther’s brow furrowed as he leaned his head down closer to her. I politely turned away from the couple, trying to give them a little privacy. Gazing over Pellanor’s shoulder, I watched him carefully inspect what looked to be some sort of spy decoder ring. The gargoyle looked up at me and smiled before offering some of his treat. I smiled and shook my head. I needed a drink. Not an injection of sugar into my system.

“How could you help us, Gage?” Astolat softly asked, drawing my attention back to the couple.

Stepping away from Pellanor, I turned back toward Uther and his beloved mate. “I know a few tricks. I could provide some protection so that no one could see you during the day. It would be limited. I couldn’t cover the entire rooftop, just a small area, but it would buy you some time until you discovered the culprit and dealt with them.”

Uther frowned and Astolat leaned her head against his shoulder, looking sad. I could guess the problem. If the murderer was anyone but the Ivory Tower, they could deal with it. But if it was a witch or warlock, Uther and his clan would have to seriously consider moving if they ever wanted to feel safe again.

“We have somewhere else we could use your help,” Uther slowly admitted while wrapping his other arm around Astolat. “We’ll be leaving our rooftop soon. We’ve found a place to set up a rookery. We will be there for nearly a year before we can safely move again. Could you set your tricks on that?”

“You’re . . . you’re . . .” I stammered, trying to find a polite word for it.

“Breeding, yes,” Enid gently said, coming up beside me with a timid smile. “Gargoyles lay eggs once a century at best. We should get at least three eggs but no more than five. We were hoping for more, but with Lysanor gone . . .”

My gaze snapped over to Uther. “Is this why it happened?”

“We’re not sure. The timing is unfortunate.”

“What’s the place?”

Uther turned and pointed toward the south. “We found a cave.”

“In the forest?”

The head gargoyle nodded. “We’ve spent many nights exploring it. We believe no one has ventured into its depths for a long time. We should be safe there.”